


falling (isn't so bad if it's for you)

by thirteenohtwo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, enjoy my 5 minute blip I had to get down so it would leave me alone, goddddd, im okay, okay, please keep falling through the sky and reaching for each other, this is like TWO guys, you've hit a very specific need of mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenohtwo/pseuds/thirteenohtwo
Summary: Always reaching. Always falling. We'll never stop.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 5
Kudos: 111





	falling (isn't so bad if it's for you)

They keep ending up like this.

Maybe if she were more of a writer, less of a reader, or took any kind of time to consider it  _ besides _ now,  _ besides _ each time death comes rushing up at them, Jester would make some kind of connection. Something poetic about the two of them, reaching.

Always reaching for each other.

But she doesn’t, because once they’re safe again, once their feet are planted firmly on the ground, surrounded by the others… they’re surrounded by the others. Yasha’s presence is large and comforting, soft and  _ there _ (despite how often she hadn’t been there, how often she left in the beginning). Guilt creeps in, like Jester is stepping between something she shouldn’t, like she’s entered a room not meant for her, meant for two others so  _ completely _ that her skin feels itchy. 

Fjord is there, too, whenever they land. For her or for Beau, Jester isn’t always sure.

She isn’t always sure…

But up  _ here _ , like  _ this _ , hurtling through the night sky with nobody else around them? She knows, she knows,  _ she knows _ . 

Blue eyes widen in surprise, in shock, but never fear. And, yeah, again, maybe she could sit down sometime and think about the fact that Beau has never looked at her with any shred of fear in her eyes, any kind of doubt (her plans? Sometimes, and yet she’s always right there with Jester to pull them off, even so). Just - just  _ affection. _ Just love.

How Beau has so much love to offer, she’s not really sure. Her parents were kind of lame when masks are most important - in front of strangers, so she’s not entirely sure what they’re like when it’s just Beau. Something about Beau’s heartbreak says they’re worse and, well, Jester has always trusted what people  _ don’t _ say more than what they do.

After all, it’s hard to tell a lie without words.

It’s there, though - so easy to get off track, especially as she starts to weave her fingers through the air, dragging up that familiar surge of magic… just not yet. Moonlight catches the love in Beau’s eyes like the centre of a flame; blue and warm and dangerous. 

The trees are coming up pretty fast and they’re still reaching, still grasping for each other. She should probably open the door soon, and yet she waits still. For the thrill, of course. That’s half their relationship anyway, the danger they get into, the risks they take. It’s not as intense as falling from a tree larger than life with a vendetta-fueled Roc swooping towards them, but it’s still up there. 

Jester can feel her heart in her throat, can feel the grin splitting across her lips as she calls Beau’s name with only the barest hint of desperation. (she’s pretty sure she’s not going to let Beau fall but there’s always that second of terror when you risk something precious to you, and let’s just say she’s glad Avacado didn’t ask for their monk). It’s matched by the light in Beau’s face, the flush of her cheeks and the half-smirk that’s ever-present, maybe  _ particularly _ present.

Their fingers brush against each other - hers soft with green magic swirling around them, Beau’s calloused and certain. It only takes one more windmill of the monk’s arms, a stretch that Jester is glad she doesn’t have to make, and then they’re grabbing hold of each other. Catching each other.

(When will she catch Beau?)

It’s automatic - because she knows it’s over now, it’s done, they’re safe, really - and her mind shifts to focus on the spell, the magic, even if it’s simple. She can only absently appreciate the way Beau doesn’t even hesitate as she’s yanked towards Jester. Can only absently appreciate how warm her human is, the way Beau circles her arms around Jester and tucks her face into a blue neck. The puff of a delighted laugh against her skin, how the embrace shifts to something… different. Tighter? No. Loose? No…

_ Intimate-! _

Sand explodes up from their impact and Fjord starts sputtering and wiping at his face. Yasha breathes an audible sigh of relief and Caleb’s shoulders relax while Caduceus gives some kind of mildly startled greeting.

In the time it takes for the sand to fall again, to drop that curtain around them, Jester squeezes Beau against her. Swallows the breath caught in her throat when Beau’s fingers dig in just a little bit tighter.

Closes her eyes as her heart keeps reaching out, stretching through the night air.

Through a deadly plunge.

Always towards Beau.

But the sand falls and Fjord claps Beau on the shoulder and teases her about bugs caught in her teeth, and Yasha’s fingers brush against Jester’s elbow in some kind of silent relief or gratitude or…

Jester looks for Caleb and asks him how cool that just looked.

And keeps falling.


End file.
